Bloodties
by Fierce Heart
Summary: When solving the mysteries of a haunted past, the answers we find are not always the ones we seek. Alternate Universe
1. Chapter 1

**_Firstly, I'd like to apologize to anyone who has been waiting for a new story, sorry for the wait! When I get writers blocks, I get them hard. Lol. I'll try to get my other ones out shortly. ;)_**

**_So, this story is actually one I started writing a few years back, before I even became a fan of Bleach or fanfiction. I was contemplating plots and stories when I came across this long, unfinished one in the dark corner of my USB memory stick, and found when applied to the characters of Bleach, a fanfic could be born. Long story short (ahh...puns), this is an amped-up, newly refurbished fic made with Bleach characters in place of my own._**

**_Lastly, I plan to make this a lengthy fic, and although a lot of it has already been written, I am rewriting alot of content. Reviews and imaginative bunnies of plot would be a help throughout this project of mine._**

**_So, without further ado...sit back, hold on, and (hopefully) enjoy. ;)_**

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><p>The night breeze rippled gently through the tall grass of the clearing. A pale, full moon hung over all, lighting the surrounding forest with soft, silver light. Fall brought with it its cold bite, and frost covered most of the ground with sparkling, white crystals.<p>

A pair of figures stood against a lone tree, one encircled in the arms of the other, bent to each other almost as if lovers, the darker of the two seeming to whisper words of endearment as they leant forward. How innocent it seemed at a glance, until whispered kisses became the tearing of flesh and the spurt of dark crimson, a morbid parody of what the act looked like to the average observer. A hand slid from the deadly embrace, shining pale beneath the moon.

Another poor soul who wouldn't see their next dawn.

A man in muted black crouched amongst the blades of grass, having watched the whole spectacle quietly. His hand rose in a closed fist, signaling several forms to slink out from beyond the tree line, gun sights trained on the scene before them.

Sliding a pair of katana soundlessly from their sheaths, the figure in the black hood crept silent across the ground, the others following close behind, eyes on the beast they stalked. It was a male of the species, remarkably handsome, as was the norm for his kind; cunning, deceitful creatures that they were.

The man in black looked to the others, orders for them held merely in his piercing gaze, before edging closer on his own, sliding carefully across the clearing.

Up ahead, the vampire finished, dropping the emptied husk of a body, oblivious to the threat only meters away. Wiping his mouth on a sleeve, the creature shifted, readying himself to leave, and the hooded man lunged, launching himself into the night air with weapons drawn.

The wind changed direction then, the short gust bringing his scent and a brilliant flash of orange with it, and the once unsuspecting vampire stiffened with apprehension, whirling to face the threat with teeth bared.

Too late.

Sharpened blades met flesh, the decapitated body falling to the ground, head rolling beside it. The others emerged from the surrounding foliage, most staring at the bodies with distaste. The man in black stood quiet beside the corpse, his uncovered head shining like fire in the pale light, a silver amulet glinting on his chest. His blades were swept clean across the wet grass and he slid them back home in the sheaths strapped to his back. A dark haired man broke from the rest of the group and approached him.

"What of the bodies, my Lord?"

The orange haired man in black glanced dispassionately over the corpses his men were dragging next to each other.

"Burn them."

The man watched silently, as the flames grew higher and higher, firelight flickering across his tanned face and the small part of forest they occupied, and then just as silently, strode away.

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><p>Dawn was slowly creeping over the mountaintops as a line of SUVs made their way through a heavily guarded gate. The gate itself lead onto land that housed what might have seemed like an extraordinarily sized mansion with surrounding buildings, all encased and protected by the forest and mountains that lay around it. The closest town was under the impression the compound was owned and managed by a highly reclusive religious community, and it was this particular belief that had ensured the compound's secrecy. No one would ever suspect that it housed and trained hunters of the night. Slayers they were called, destroyers of the walking dead, vanquishers of the creatures known as <em>nosferatu<em>.

The SUVs slowed to a halt beside a large hanger and several passengers exited the vehicles, assisting those waiting with the unloading of weapons and equipment. The orange haired man emerged from the passenger side of the first vehicle, stepping lightly onto the frosted gravel, a second man shadowing him as he turned towards the main building.

"Any orders for the men, my lord?" the second asked.

The other considered the statement for a moment before replying in a husky tenor, "Tell them to debrief with Richards and then seek their beds. That will be all for now, Renji."

The burgundy haired man gave a curt nod before turning to address the men and women standing silently in wait for orders. The unit was one of the most efficient in their organization, full of intelligent slayers well trained under Renji's watchful eye. He dismissed them with a nod and turned once more to his orange haired companion, "Shall we then, my Lord?"

A small scowl broke out across the other's face. "Yes. And you can drop the 'my Lord'"

The clipped reply brought a smile to Renji's face. His companion was testy at the best of times, but a loyal friend and good man. He replied in kind, adopting a brusquer and more familiar tone, now that their men were out of earshot.

"But of course, my Lord, I meant no offense. I only sought to be professional."

"Prat."

"Well that, and to ensure your present good mood, thus keeping you oblivious to the fact I stole your favorite Glock last night."

"Ah, so that's how it was mysteriously missing from its holster."

"I'm afraid so, Milord."

"Pity."

The banter between the two continued as they made their way through the main building's halls, stopping every so often to greet slayers and officers from other units. They passed into a large center room, where communication and intelligence agents were hard at work, scanning computer screens and video footage and spreading papers over the various tables placed in the room. An unmarked wood door was opened and the two went through, shutting the door behind them. The orange haired man seemed to release a held in breath, and slipped the holster holding his katana from his back with a soft sigh. Laying his blades on the desk perched in the backside of the room, he smiled softly as the sound of cracking bones and a hearty yawn reached his ears.

"Tired, are you, Renji?" He teased lightly. A slayer's life was anything but restful, as they were constantly on the go, only putting aside a small number of hours each day for rest and sustenance.

Renji bristled slightly at the comment, his wide mouth dropping into an indignant scowl as he glared at his friend.

"To tell you the truth, I'm getting way to old for this kind of thing. Just the thought of you taking on a vampire by yourself is enough to give me gray hairs. I'm going to die of old age from watching you one of these days."

At the age of 29, the burgundy haired man was certainly not old; he was six feet and three inches of sturdy, corded muscle and sinewy strength. He was an excellent marksman, deadly with any kind of knife and had intelligence beyond his years. He was in his prime. And yet, behind his mahogany eyes there was an old tiredness, an aged look that came with having seen too much during such a short period of life.

"Is that any way to speak to your commanding officer?" the other asked, mock indignantly, "You doubt my prowess as an accomplished fighter? I should make you do paperwork for the insult."

Renji's mouth quirked at the retort, "You would have me do the paperwork anyway. You hate doing paperwork."

"For good reason," a shudder, " Who in their right mind would want to sit behind a desk and fill out sheet upon sheet of that garbage?"

"Everyone deserves to suffer every now and then. They say boredom builds character."

Renji watched his friend's mouth form into a small pout, "But you wouldn't let **me** suffer, would you?" the fiery-headed man asked.

"No, I wouldn't." Renji watched a genuine smile spread across his friend's face, appreciating the sight in its rarity.

"And that's why I love you the best," the man said teasingly, "Any man who'll do paperwork for me is worthy of my attentions."

Renji inwardly smiled at his companion's high spirits, enjoying the teasing tone in their conversation. He lived to see the emptiness lifted from whiskey colored eyes; watch them turn a molten gold. Going along with the repartee, he let his face fall into a frown.

"Surely you aren't considering replacing me with someone who has a prettier face, are you?" he asked threateningly, "Because then I'd most definitely have to beat the little punk's ass to make myself feel better."

A soft, husky laugh was muffled behind a tanned hand. "No, I guess not. You're the only man for me, Renji. I'd end up killing anyone else."

"As long as you know it."

A small silence persisted before the other cleared his throat, "Well, I'll be leaving you to your paperwork. I think I'll head to the training grounds. My blades were a tad too slow tonight for my liking, and I need to put in a few hours of instruction with our …younger members."

"You do that. I'll be catching some zs. I'll come get you if anyone wishes an audience."

"Have fun doing paperwork. I'll be preoccupying myself with teaching sixteen-year-olds how to properly wield a blade."

"Be gentle with them, Ichigo. Try not to scare the shit out of them this time."

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><p><strong><em>Reviews are the fruit of love! ;P<em>**


	2. Chapter 2

_**So, here we go with chapter two, definitely longer than the first. Apologies for any who wanted an update. I was finally inspired to write more, lol. Hope I don't disappoint. Without further blabbing on...Hobey-ho, here we go...**_

_**Disc: If I owned this, Bleach would've ended after Aizen was defeated and with Grimmjow and Ichigo riding off into the sunset xP**_

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><p>Closing the door to his private quarters, Ichigo wearily trudged into the rooms. After an hour of practicing various katas and teaching the younger slayers swordsmanship and some of the finer points of judo, he was definitely ready for a shower. Remembering one particular student's surprise as he was flipped to the ground caused the orange haired man to chuckle under his breath. He was tough on his students, but it was not without purpose.<p>

An enemy would _not_ be lenient.

He himself had been under as hard a tutelage. Growing up, he had spent most of his time training, honing his skills to forge himself into the killer he was; proficient in the martial arts and deadly with a blade.

The years had made him a rather solitary person; his only exception being Renji. The two had somehow managed to bond during childhood, despite their misgivings, both being children within the slayer ranks, working to become full-fledged slayers one day. Both having been orphaned and alone.

Perhaps that had been the cause of their closeness. They had had no one but each other to depend on. Renji had been only 13 and camping in the wilderness with his family when a rogue vampire had attacked the unsuspecting group. His mother, father and little brother had all been brutally killed right in front of his eyes, with him as the only survivor, somehow having managed to kill the monster. The encounter had not left him completely unscathed however; his chest was crisscrossed with delicate white lines from where the beast had tried to scratch out his heart and in certain light, one could see the telltale pinpricks branded on his neck.

Ichigo's own family had all been slayers; his mother and father leaders amongst the organization and veterans of their profession, his older brother a prodigy. But they were all gone now, murdered, no, _butchered_ by the creatures they had hunted so passionately. Afterwards, the organization had taken him in like any other child who had been left with naught. Ichigo had embraced the turn of events, learning the way of the blade, learning to have no mercy in the face of his enemies. He had made a vow to avenge his family, to not rest until justice had been dealt. It was sometimes one of the few things that kept him going, knowing that one day he would kill the bloodsuckers responsible for the murder of his loved ones.

Leaving his brooding thoughts, he moved to the shower in the small, attached bathroom, turning on the water to the shower and testing the spray with tanned fingers. Deeming it warm enough, he stripped off his travel worn clothes and stepped into the heated deluge.

His thoughts drifted slowly back to his and Renji's odd relationship. They had hated each other at first, getting into spats, calling each other names like "strawberry" and "pineapple head". But as time went by, they had become quite close, almost inseparable. Renji had been with him for the majority of his life, longer than even his own family had, and had been with him through thick and thin. They were more than friends, and closer than brothers.

Ichigo didn't miss the meaning behind the fond looks Renji gave him from time to time. There was something more than brotherly affection in those russet eyes. Something, that at times, disturbed him. In a slayer's life, love was a gamble. Something so precious could be ripped away in a second's hesitation.

He wouldn't put Renji through that.

Taking his mind away from the touchy subject, he turned off the water and stepped onto the bath mat. He glanced at the mirror, regarding his reflection in the glass. A man with tanned face and shoulder-length light auburn hair stared back at him with tired eyes. Lean muscles stood out along his torso, leaving no trace of fat on a frame many had described as graceful. He was a fit man; he would allow himself that.

He gently touched the amulet that lay on his chest, smoothing his thumb across the silvered surface. His father had placed it around his neck at his that cold winter's night, just minutes before…well, it was the only thing Ichigo had left of him, and now it served as a personal talisman of sorts.

Grabbing a towel, he dried off, dressing in a pair of boxers used as pajamas and exiting the bathroom, before heading for his bed. What he really needed was sleep.

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><p>A boy stood in the middle of a large room playing with a wooden sword, twirling around with loud whoops, obviously fighting hordes of unseen enemies. His brother was near, watching the spectacle with amusement, the voices of his mother and father drifting in from another room.<p>

The sound of dogs barking made him pause; his brother had stiffened on his chair by the fire. His mother and father had stopped talking in the other room.

Silence filled the house.

The dogs weren't barking anymore and a high-pitched scream suddenly broke the tense silence, widening the boy's eyes in surprise. It had sounded like one of the servants. He looked to his brother who had left the fire with a sudden movement, gathering him in his arms. They passed his mother and father, and the boy couldn't help but cry out in question.

"Go with Kaien," he heard them say, "he'll keep you safe."

His brother rushed to the boy's room, shoving him under the bed, his face appearing under the bed-skirt for only a moment.

"Don't move and you'll be safe. I promise I'll be back." He left then, shutting the door behind him.

Suddenly the sounds of fighting reached the boy's ears, glass breaking, the swish of weapons, and he shrunk further into the space beneath his bed, his back touching the wall. His father's voice rang out, hoarse and frantic.

"Go Masaki!" he ordered, "There's too many. Take the boys with you and leave!"

His mother's reply was short in coming, "Never, Isshin! I won't leave you to die!" A few moments lasted before she cried out again. "Kaien! Kaien, no!" then, "You bloodsucking bastards! That was my son!"

Tears started to trickle down the little boys's cheeks; inhuman shrieks permeating the door to his room. He heard his father call out again, "No, Masaki, don't. Wait!" and then another shriek, followed by his father's animal-like bellow of anguish. "NO!"

A giant sonic boom seemed to hit the house, making the door to the boy's room rattle on its hinges. Another shortly followed, and the boy cried out as his door splintered, his father crashing into the room. He hastily began crawling towards the opening underneath his bed, moving to go to his father's prone form, but stopped as he heard soft footsteps. His gaze lifted to behold a tall stranger striding quietly through the doorway. His long, brown hair gleamed in the moonlight shining through the bedroom's windows, the molten gold eyes that fixed their stare on his father's fallen form betraying nothing but a cold indifference. His very form exuded power, and the little boy shivered.

The man was beautiful, and he very much wanted to touch that long, bronzed hair of his. Maybe he was a friend come to help him and his father, for surely he was too pretty to be bad. He made a move to come out from his hiding place—and then the man smiled.

The boy flinched back at the sight of pearly, white fangs sliding from behind pale lips. So **this **was what a vampire really looked like: perfection, the covering façade of the monster within- a devil in the form of an angel.

His father stirred on the floor, eyes opening to take in the brunette stranger. "You," he snarled.

The stranger was still smiling grimly, "Yes, dear Isshin, it is I. I've come to collect that what is owed to me."

He stepped fully into the room and inhaled deeply. "A most intoxicating scent," he murmured. He finally turned his gaze back to Isshin prone form against the wall, "Now, where is the little prince?"

His father rose from the ground, growling, "You will not have him, Aizen. Never." The boy watched as the man named Aizen stepped closer, his eyes flickering with a cold, gold fire.

"If you will not do as I say," he whispered dangerously, "then you leave me no choice."

What happened next was almost too fast for him to see. His father and the vampire launched themselves at each other, their movements like a dance on the floor, their bodies almost blurred. The boy could hear the whish of air with each step, each snarl and fleshy blow causing him to cringe.

Aizen suddenly had his father against the wall, his hand locked about Isshin's throat. Blood seeped through his father's shirt, and dripped from his lips, his shallow breathing complicated by the hole in his chest; a fatal wound.

"Your new habits have slowed you, old one," Aizen bit out, "now tell me, where is he?"

The other laughed harshly, blood gurgling through his teeth. "You've killed the woman I loved and my firstborn, and now you expect me to tell you where my dearest child is? Are you mad, or just plain stupid?"

"You will tell me!"

"Fuck you."

The vampire's hold tightened and Isshin grimaced, blood running from his mouth to drip to the floor.

"I will never give up my little boy to the likes of you," the slayer spat, "He will grow up hating you and your kind. Even if you ever manage to find him, he will kill you and rid himself and the world of an evil. No matter what you do, he is forever safe from your clutches."

He finished his speech with a spit to the brunette vampire's face, a raspy gurgling leaving his throat as he continued to laugh. The boy flinched at the sound of a large snap and saw his father's body hit the floor. He forgot himself, letting out a little gasp of anguish, before desperately clamping his hands over his mouth. The vampire turned ever so slightly towards the bed.

The boy didn't dare breathe. He refused to become another corpse on the floor; he wouldn't betray his family's wishes for him to live.

After what seemed like several lifetimes, the vampire turned away, and left, leaving a wake of destruction behind him.

The boy looked back on his father's still form, the man's neck at an odd angle and open eyes staring blankly. He watched as a trickle of blood ran under the bed, streaming slowly towards him. It touched his hands and he shied away. Soon, it was everywhere, coating the floor, the walls, bedcovers. Everything became crimson and liquid. He felt himself drowning in it, unable to breath as it filled his lungs and sank him into the deep. It was everywhere…everywhere...

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><p>Ichigo sprung awake, a film of sweat covering his pallid skin, and rushed to the bathroom, where he was violently and thoroughly sick. Wiping the vomit from his mouth with tissue after he was finished, he flushed the toilet and leant against a nearby wall. His legs suddenly felt like Jell-O and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. His muscles twitched at random and he could swear he still felt the cold, congealed slide of blood over his flesh. Desperate, he turned to the sink and splashed cold water on his face, trying to scrub away the feeling and the memory. Turning the faucet off, he leant back against the wall, breathing heavily.<p>

He hadn't had that nightmare for a couple months now.

It had plagued him since childhood, the same exact dream forcing him to relive his family's murder over and over again. He had thought the nightmares had left him; evidently, his mind had proven otherwise. He forced his thoughts to take a turn away from the morbid, and settled in happier memories. He could still remember the feel of his mother's hands as she brushed and fussed with his hair, her voice as she called him by her favorite pet name, her "little protector". He recalled his brother's laughter at Ichigo's daily ambush at the front door to their home.

Most of all, he remembered his father's voice, low and calming. He had always talked to Ichigo, sometimes acting the fool for the boy's amusement, and then at other times he spoke with a more serious air, treating Ichigo like the adult he would one day become. Ichigo palmed the amulet around his neck once more.

"This is a symbol of who you are, my Ichigo," Isshin had said, draping the necklace over the young boy's head, "it's a symbol of our family. As long as you wear it, we will always be with you, guiding you, protecting you. Never forget that. You are a Kurosaki"

He hadn't, taking comfort in the words as a lost child, but now? He knew the words for what they were. Simple words of solace, unneeded by a man who'd learned to deal without. Still, Ichigo could feel the moisture collecting in his eyes.

_I will **not** cry._

A knock at the door roused the orange haired man from his thoughts. Rising swiftly, he ran a hand over his face, composing himself for his visitor.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"It's me."

The door was opened to reveal none other then Renji, standing expectantly in the hallway.

"What is it?" Ichigo asked, inwardly cursing. His voice was still husky from the lump in his throat, and he had a distinct feeling he looked like shit. As it was, his eyes were red and bloodshot and his face was pale.

Renji stared him down before replying. "May I come in?" he asked quietly.

Silently, Ichigo stepped back, holding the door open for his red-haired friend. As soon as the door was shut, Renji cornered him,

"The nightmares. They came back, didn't they?"

Ichigo's face broke out in a scowl, "I'm fine," he bit out and fixed the other with a hard stare, daring him to say otherwise.

He did, "I'd like to think I know you better than that," Renji fixed Ichigo with an equally intense look, "Don't lie to me, Ichi."

At the sound of Isshin's pet name for him, Ichigo's carefully constructed self-control fractured, and a silent tear trailed its way down his cheek. Renji was there immediately, cradling the younger man into his chest.

"I'm sorry, Ichi," he said softly.

"There was so much blood," Ichigo's quiet murmur was muffled with his face in Renji's shoulder, "I could hear them all dying, from where I was hiding, under my bed. He killed my father in my room. I could see his blood creep towards me. Everything went red, just endless blood. It was everywhere, and I couldn't get it off. "

"Shh," the older slayer said softly, "Don't think about it anymore, Ichi. Don't let the past rule you. Let it all just fade away. A bad dream, that's all it was, a bad dream."

The pair stayed as they were for a few more silent moments, Renji holding the other in a comforting embrace, softly stroking a hand down his back, before Ichigo finally pulled away. Wiping a hand across his eyes, he started to apologize to his friend, before Renji cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips,

"You're my closest friend, Ichigo. I would die for you, you know that". The tattooed slayer's hand moved to cup Ichigo's cheek gently, "Don't mock my caring for you with an apology. You have never been a burden to me, and I would gladly spend my life fighting by your side."

A thumb brushed away the remaining moisture on Ichigo's cheek, and he could hear his breath catch slightly. Renji leaned in, breath ghosting across Ichigo's face; russet eyes met warmed honey for an instant, and the older man drifted his mouth to the Ichigo's, lips pressing warm and soft. The younger stiffened, placing a placating hand against his comrade's chest, before pressing and gently pulling away from the kiss. Renji took in downcast eyes and sighed softly, "Sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you like that. Forgive me."

Ichigo raised his eyes at that, "Don't apologize, Ren. I…know what you feel… but I can't let myself return it. If I did, I'd end up losing you…just like everything else I've loved."

Renji was silent for a time before speaking, his eyes on their clasped hands, "I hope that vengeance will mend the wounds in your heart. Maybe then, you will trust yourself enough to let me in," Russet eyes flicked up to stare into Ichigo's own, "but know this, no matter what happens, I will always be there to protect you…and I will always love you."

Ichigo felt his gut twist at the other's determined confession, and took a deep, calming breath. His heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute, and his cheeks felt hot. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, he attempted some humor, "Even if I make you do my annual diagnostic report?"

The sober light in Renji's eyes seemed to fade and the red-haired man gave a chuckle, "Even then. Speaking of which, Urahara wanted to see you…I was coming to tell you before…well, before."

Ichigo perked up at that. If Urahara wanted an audience, it was likely to discuss his unit's next up-coming mission.

"Did he specify on what it was about?"

"No, he didn't. He just ordered me to summon you to his office. Although I have a good hunch it's concerning the performance of our last outing and catching up stuff like that. Probably just wants to have a talk with you."

Sensing the other's slight discomfort, Renji released Ichigo's hands and stepped back a step. His gaze was tentative at best, betraying his embarrassment. "I'm sorry for my conduct earlier," he said quietly, "I didn't come here intending to-."

He made to continue, but Ichigo silenced him by placing his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Don't worry yourself, Ren," he chided gently, "I still respect you. You're still a big badass in my eyes."

This gathered a smile from the redhead and the nervous energy between the two left, replaced by the usual bantering camaraderie. "I am pretty bad," Renji said with a wide smirk, prodding a bicep with a finger, "Just look at my muscles. I dare you to find other guys this big."

"Too bad your brain isn't as big," Ichigo quipped, grinning at Renji's answering scowl, "now get out of my apartment, Pineapple, so I can change."

"Way ahead of you o' fearless leader. Come get me after you talk to ol' Hat & Clogs." And with that said, he opened the door and left, closing it gently behind him.

The grin slowly faded from Ichigo's face, as he stared at the closed door. As much as all the teasing between them had lightened the mood, it hadn't erased what'd happened. No doubt Renji was having the same thoughts.

_I can't love him the way he needs me to, but why does the idea of him choosing someone else hurt so bad?_

Ichigo grimaced as his stomach began to churn. Damn thoughts. Damn brain. Damn kiss

He knew it was wrong to think of Renji belonging to him, but he found he couldn't help it. He was his safe harbor, the man who had always been there for him, been at his side. He was _his_.

Ichigo moved into his bedroom, shaking his head to chase away his troubling line of thought. Opening the doors to his closet, he retrieved a simple long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, dressing hurriedly. There was no use in dwelling on it. Better to act like it had never happened and get on with their roles. Renji was his second in command and he was the other's commanding officer, and right now, he had some important business to attend to. Making sure everything was in order, Ichigo left his quarters, heading down the halls to Urahara's office.

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><p>Ichigo gave a curt knock on Urahara's door, shifting excitedly from one leg to the other. A muffled, "Enter," came from behind the door. Urahara Kisuke, the head slayer of the outpost, was a seemingly ageless man, his outward unassuming and at times childish appearance (the man liked to wear a hat, traditional sandals, and carry around a fan for Pete's sake) hiding an intelligent and battle-hardened interior. Dirty blonde hair fell into steel colored eyes, and was covered by a well-worn bucket hat. He was dressed in a dark-green kimono at the moment, his sword, Benihime, strapped to his side as it always was. One gray eye watched as Ichigo entered, regarding the younger slayer with a calculating look, before the man burst out, "Kurosaki-san! How is my favorite berry-tan?"<p>

Ichigo repressed the urge to throw something at the other man; he **knew** Ichigo hated being called that. "Just fine, Urahara," he replied in greeting, "Abarai said you asked for me?"

"Ah, yes" the older man began, "I wanted to congratulate you on your latest success. One less vampire around is always good news around here; your team preformed well and up to expectations. Also, Yourichi sends her regards."

"Thank you, Milord"

Urahara waved a nonchalant hand at the honorific before continuing, "However, the main reason I summoned you here is because I have another mission for your team. One that will take a bit more 'cloak and dagger' than you're used to." The head slayer pushed a manila folder to the edge of the desk and prompted the other to look.

Ichigo's brow furrowed a touch as he examined the folder's contents. "Surveillance?" he asked.

Urahara nodded in answer, "Yes. Intelligence from one of our spies up North gave us a lead; a particular meeting is to take place two nights from now, in an off road location in the southern Ural Mountains; real rural backcountry. From what we can tell, the evidence our man gave is sound.

"And why give this to my team? Keigo and his squad are more than capa—"

"The Espada," Grey eyes narrowed slightly, "one of their members is supposed to be at this gathering."

Ichigo felt his blood run cold for a fraction of a second. The Espada were an elite sect of vampires, each powerful in their own right, and held influential seats in the bloodsuckers' form of government, the Council. His team had been chosen then, because they were one of the best. The orange-haired slayer nodded after a moment, "Allright. Mission objective?"

"Simply watch and listen; the vampires' movements have been agitated as of late. We need to be informed if something is coming up on the horizon." All trace of camaraderie vanished from the older slayer's face at this, replaced with a serious calm, "Hear me now, Ichigo. This is a surveillance mission only. I will not tolerate any engaging of the enemy. Keep unheard and unseen, and at all risk, avoid contact. These men are not beings to be trifled with.

Ichigo hid a scowl at his superior's warning reprimand; he may have a reputation for being overly zealous in his duties, but he wasn't about to have it affect his judgment in this. He grimaced out a curt Milord, and waited to be dismissed.

Urahara's features softened as he took in the rigid frame of the man he had raised as a surrogate son, having taken him under wing after the deaths of Masaki and Isshin. At most times, he was fiercely proud of the man the boy had grown to be, and at others we worried for the child that had been lost in the process. What stood in its place was a vengeful slayer. The older man let out a soft sigh, suddenly feeling his years, before throwing a small smile at his subordinate, "You assemble at 1600, berry-tan. Dismissed"

Ichigo nodded and bowed, before turning to leave the room.

"And Ichigo?"

A pause before the door. "Yes?"

"Be Careful."

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><p><strong><em>Epic Mission Chapter up next! xP Reviews are most appreciated.<em>**

**_PS: I apologize for the sometimes there, sometimes not scene Manager was being cheeky :/_**


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